


Rooftop

by Rebeca13



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebeca13/pseuds/Rebeca13
Summary: Sakura and Madara like each other, but both are too scared to take the first step. Meeting on the roof turns out to be the exactly what they need to clarify the situation.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “You did what on my roof with whom?” (MadaSakuWeek tumblr)

Madara Uchiha couldn’t have looked more out of place even if he wanted. Sitting a four figure costume in a small apartment —although one could argue that everything was smalled when compared with his mansion—surrounded by sweaty college students and drinking alcohol of questionable provenience from a paper cup. The air stinked of cheap cigarettes and sex. Had he been like this in his twenties as well? He hoped not. The guys in the room were an embarrassment to the male species—in both their horny-rabbit like dance moves and their lame pick-up lines: “Was your dad a boxer? Because damn, you’re a knockout!”  _ If he were, she’d have upper cut that mouth by now _ ; “Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”  _ I don’t know, but by the way she made an excuse in a nanosecond, she must specialize in avoiding idiots. _

Madara was a bit of a hypocrite. Who was he to judge? He got himself into this shithole because he thought with the wrong head. It would have been better to follow his brother’s advice and ask the girl out instead of trying to corner her at a party. Even Sasuke, his nephew, who was the girl’s friend, had told him that Sakura was not a party girl and she appreciated men who were straightforward with their intentions; Madara was direct, but he was  _ also _ rational. He had no idea what Sakura thought of him, or of older men in general, and thought that getting closer to her before mentioning dating was a better approach. It was not that he was not confident; no woman could resist him. He knew that women were crazy for his looks, wanting to feel him up, to pass their fingers through his hair, to have him on top of them, not to mention that he was rich, well-connected and could make their lives easier overall—he couldn't quite figure Sakura out; he knew from Sasuke that she didn’t like when men flaunted their money and was independent to the point of refusing any help. She was the type of woman who split th bill at the restaurant. Not that it was a problem, per se; Madara was interested in her, he wanted to  _ spoil _ her. He thought she might not appreciate his good intentions. He never had to pursuit women; he had to escape their advances. It’s no surprise then that when Ino, Sakura’s colleague and lifelong best friend, swore that she would be present at the party, he decided to stop by.

It is not to say that the blonde lied to him; he had seen Sakura come and have a few drinks—if that guy had offered her one more, Madara was ready to step in; did he try to get her drink on purpose? He would not have any of it; he was not his boyfriend ( _ yet _ ) but he would not simply witness a disaster in the making. Sakura’s punches were hard and well-aimed, he knew she could take care care of herself, however, he wanted to be there, at her side—but before he managed to engage in a conversation with her, she was gone. The douchebag who kept trying to touch her and served her glass after glass was still there, so she must have tried to get away from here. Madara breathed a sigh of relief.

_ Did she go home? _ He didn’t see her tell Ino goodbye. He picked up his phone.  _ Should I ask Ino or Sasuke for her number? _ He tapped furiously.  _ No. I’d look like a creep if I messaged her all of a sudden. I am not even sure she noticed me. _ He put the phone away, trying to make his way to the door through the half-naked bodies. Was this an orgy in the making or was it the fashion nowadays?

* * *

Sakura breathed in the cold air and sipped on her cocktail. Was it the fourth? She was not even remotely drunk—perhaps tipsy? She was in that euphoric, blissful phase where she felt her head light and her thoughts were not running marathons, she was anchored in the present while not thinking of time at all. She, the professional overthinker, could enjoy star-gazing and vibe with the sounds of the city.

Ino would not look for her; why did she insist on her coming to the party anyway? Ino knew she’d rather go out, have some wine, eat a dessert. The image of Madara in a black suit popped in her head—she could have had dessert, but she missed the opportunity; she bit her lip.  _ Why am I like this? _ She threw a quick look at the door behind her.  _ Should I go back? Maybe the alcohol is exactly what I need to make a move. _ She was younger and not half as sophisticated as the women she had seen him with in the tabloids. She didn’t want to make a fool out of herself.  _ Is he still there? _

Madara, like all other Uchiha when in love, was not as rational as he believed. Had he been, he would’ve noticed her eyeing him. How could Sakura  _ not _ have noticed him? Every time he was in the room, her eyes always him without much trouble. She observed her from under her long eyelashes, always mindful of the distance between them, always careful that he wouldn’t catch her. He was different from the guys she had had to deal with before; he intimidated her, although she would have never admit out loud. Whenever she happened to be next to him—like that time when she celebrated New Year’s Eve with Sasuke’s family—he towered over her, his dark eyes had a mischievous glee in them, promising her unearthly pleasures (or so she assumed), making her press her legs together to alleviate the tension she felt, his clothes always well-fit, emphasising his broad shoulders, and when he rolled up his sleeves she could see the veins in his forearms— _ god.  _ She wandered how it would be to have his hands grab her thighs, his dark mane tickling her legs—would he look like a lion feasting on its prey?

She was attracted to him. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be? He exuded sex-appeal through all his pores. The attraction might have died if it was only the physical aspect; he was intelligent, always challenging her views, able to discuss metaphysics as well as sports, he was always fun to be with; and she might have eavesdropped on one of his phone conversation, not intentionally, _ of course _ —she enjoyed that side of him too: commanding, confident, in control.

A soft click.  _ If it’s that douchebag from earlier, I think I’ll scream. _

“Sakura?”

She froze in place. That rich tone. She got goosebumps.

“Madara.” He was surprised she recognised him given that she didn’t face him.

“What are you doing up here?”

“It was too hot in there.” He came next to her. “I needed to cool down,” she added without looking at him.

“Yes. Too many damn people in there. Felt like a boiling pot.”

“You could’ve taken down your coat. I bet no one would’ve complained.”  _ Maybe the guys. _ She laughed. “This looks thick.” She grabbed his arm, it took her a second to feel the muscle beneath.  _ What am I doing? _ Sakura bit her lip and took off her hand. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid, _ Sakura scolded herself.

_ Say something idiot, say something, anything. _ Madara wrecked his brain for a topic.

Sakura seemed thoughtful; he wanted to wipe the worry off he face.  _ What is she thinking of? _

“Madara.” He gripped the railing harder. No one said his name like she did. It was something about how she rolled the R. He wanted to check all the ways in which she could say it. Have her whisper it in his ear, shout it at the top her lungs, moan it when he entered her…  _ Focus! What did she say? Something about opportunity? _

“Didn’t catch that. Can you speak… louder? It’s noisy here. Or should we head back in?”  _ Why did I say this? _

“No! I mean, let’s stay here a bit more. I asked: what do you think of the old saying ‘when opportunity knocks on your door, be willing to take a chance’?”

“I think that it is mostly a privilege to have opportunity knock at one’s door. Most of the time I had to go after it and enter on the window to meet it.” She looked troubled. “Why? What happened?” 

“I think… there is this opportunity that presented itself to me. But I am not sure… the risks… Have you ever wanted to take a decision without thinking of the consequences?”

“Not only wanted. I did that a few times. Business is a tough game. You have to must fast lest someone moves faster.”

“Did you regret it?”

“Not really. Some things went great, other didn’t. I didn’t have time to dwell in self-pity. Hashirama always complains, saying I am reckless. I think I know what I’m doing and doing it well. Listen Sakura, if there is anything I can help you with, let me know. I’ll gladly do it. No obligations.” He casually brushed her shoulder. Her skin was warm; his fingers itched for more.

“You can, actually.”

_ Great. If she let’s me help her, it means I am already one step ahead of others. _

“Madara, promise you won’t laugh. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, but I’ve only gathered my courage now.”

“I won’t.”

“Let me kiss you.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t blink.  _ Is this a dream. _

“Just once,” she stared at his lips. Was it the alcohol? Was it because he was so close to her, smelling of cinnamon and honey? Was it because she had been tossing in bed night on end thinking of him and she had reacher her limit? Where did her courage come from? “I know it’s bold to ask, but I  _ really  _ want to kiss. Let me do it just once,” she added, not knowing how to interpret his silence. Once was a bit better than nothing. _ Did I make a complete fool of myself? _ She did not dare to watch him in the eyes.

“I don’t know, Sakura.” His fingers traced her figure, making her shiver when he reacher her neck.

“Of course, we can just pretend this never happened. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

She took a step back; Madara made sure to close the distance between them. His proximity was unnerving. She gripped his coat.

“Look at me, Sakura.” He cupped her face, forcing her face up. ‘I don’t think once will be enough,’ he wanted to say; instead he said “You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk.” She sounded offended.

“I am just saying… you might not be thinking clearly. I don’t want you to regret tomorrow.” Every nerve in his being screamed with need for her. He wanted to possess her mouth. While he felt this growing need inside of him, he would never take advantage of her.

“I won’t. I would never dare ask you this without drinking anything at all.”

“Ask me tomorrow. My answer will not disappoint you.”

Encouraged by this, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “ _ Madara _ .” His breath hitched. “Test me. Ask me anything.” His lips were so close; he could almost feel her taste. He asked her a few things. She didn’t stutter.  _ This is ridiculous. _ Was it taking advantage if she wanted this? If she initiated it? She had moved closer, her boobs brushing his chest. He couldn’t think clearly.

“I promise I won’t regret it tomorrow.” Could she guarantee?

Madara was torn between giving into his desires and doing what seemed like the right thing.

“Only one kiss, love.” 

“Only one.” 

Sakura’s mouth assaulted his; her hands found their way into his long hair. Madara pressed her close to him, his hands resting on her hips, appreciating her curves. Her tongue met his, at first timid, cautious, but soon they were entangled in an erotic dance. His hand was under her right boob, her heart beating against his palm. She made him lose his mind. They separated, gasping. She pressed a few kisses on his chin.

“Sakura. We should stop. My… self control is not nearly good enough for this.”

Her lips were red and swollen. Her lipstick was smeared and he bet half of it was on him.

“Oh, is it? I’ve only heard praise about your self-control, Madara. You should give yourself some credit.” She laughed.

As in a trace, his thumb passed over her lower lip.

“ _ You _ give yourself some credit, Sakura. You could make a saint sin.”

“Losing control… is it that bad?” She kissed his thumb, then sucked on it.

“It…” She bit the finger gently. Madara wondered what else she could do with her mouth. How good would it feel to have her lips wrapped around his cock? To have her look up at him with hungry eyes, determined take in all of him.

“Love, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I?”

To her delight, Madara did not need more convincing that she wanted this. And wanted it  _ now _ . When she told him to take her there, Madara thought he had misheard her. She said she’d never had sex outside, she wanted to try it with him.

How did he live without her before? She was addicting. She was perfect like Michelangelo’s Venus. Her boobs were small and perky and fit perfectly in his palms. He was fascinated with by he nipples—they were small pink buds that turned into caramels when he sucked on them. He took his time exploring her body, kissing the birth mark on her left leg, biting her ass, trailing wet kisses on her spine; he wanted to know all of her.

For all the teasing she had done, Sakura was rather impatient. Soon, she put Madara’s coat on the ground, sat on all fours and threw him a cheeky smile while she wiggled her butt. He smacked her ass and, instead of plunging into her as she had hoped, he deliberately moved slow, catching her in a cycle of feeling overwhelmed by fullness and being frustrated by the loss of this feeling. She whimpered and pleaded, not realising that he needed every ounce of restraint to (1) not come since her pussy felt so fucking good, (2) not hammer her because he wanted her to have an extraordinary orgasm, and that required time, build up, teasing. Patience was a virtue. Too bad Sakura did not feel virtuous that night. She was eager to meet his thrusts, applying just a bit more pressure.

When he lifted her a bit, she felt a thill run through the veins. Realising that she was exposed, the breeze sweeping her skin, that someone might see them or catch them, that she had this incredibly hot man behind her catering to her pleasure… When the orgasm hit, it was an explosion so strong that had her shaking.

* * *

“What did you just say, Forehead?!  You did what on my roof with whom?”

“Well, technically, it is not  _ your _ roof. You don’t own the building, Ino-pig.”

“Stop changing the damn subject. You made out with  _ the _ Madara Uchiha on the roof?!”

“Yes?”

She would not tell Ino that they took it a step further. Some things were better left unsaid. 


End file.
